


Into the Forest

by avgust



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Magic, Modern Era, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Build, alternative universe, enchanted forest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2018-09-25 16:53:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9831080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avgust/pseuds/avgust
Summary: In the shadow of the forest, his grandmother would tell him stories of what lurked in the dark.But not even her warnings would be enough to save him...This is an A/U take on losing one's self to the dark mysteries of the world.





	1. Prologue

_"Yet that terror was not fright,_  
_But a tremulous delight--"_  
-The Lake, Edgar Allen Poe

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Prologue

 

He had been told about the forest.

From old stories that had been passed down through the generations of his family, stories that had came to him from his grandmother, warned him about the forest. Before the burning fire in the dead of winter, and under the stars at the end of long summer days, she would tell him the tales of spirits that haunted the forest, and lured those who were willing to fall to their deceptions, by their whispers alone.

She told him that terrible beings lingered in the shadows of the forest, and danced within the eventide, while imprinting their snares within the rustling of the leaves and within the scents of the dewy moss. And those who found themselves ensnarled by the spirits’ voices, his grandmother said with eyes ablaze and voice quivering, were never seen from again.

He was not so certain that he believed his grandmother’s stories, but he listened to them all the same, with the wide-eyed wonder that comes so easily with childhood. Where all of his friends were frightened of the vast forest and of its darkness, to him, it held a certain allurement, like a dark and mysterious beauty just waiting for him to discover. And the forest would often fill his dreams, tempting him with a strange wonderment.

And in the wakefulness of day, he would often walk near the boundary of the forest, at a safe distant on the glade, just before the long grasses ebbed and the twisted branches of the forest’s trees seemed to beckon him into their domain. He yearned to learn of its secrets. He would linger just within the shadows of the tall trees, hoping to catch just a glimpse of the spirits that haunted this place, and he would clear his mind, straining to hear the voices that whispered from the shadows.

But those spirits never came to him, and neither did the whispers, for they were only just silly stories.

Even so, his grandmother still warned him not to venture into the forest, not even for a second. She told him that terrible things would befall those who stepped just beyond the glade. And when he asked her just what those terrible things were, her face would reflect some sorrow of old, but what that was, she never would tell him. Maybe he was simply just too young to know such things.

Even though he did not believe her stories, his love for her made him mind her words. Most of the time, that was.

For the magic that was found within those stories, and the curiosity within his own mind, was more than he could resist. And so, when his grandmother had drifted off on one of her afternoon rests, he crept out of their little cottage, and he took the path that cut through the glade on then to the forest.

He knew he shouldn’t be here, and a guilt entered his mind with the knowing that he was disobeying the one person who loved and cared about him so much. But here, before the forest, he stood ensnarled. Even if he wanted to turn back, he knew that he couldn’t. With the fearlessness that often comes with youth, he broke the boundary of what had been deemed safe, and he stepped into the shadows of the forest, under the wide and crooked trees.

Trepidation was at first forgotten, for it seemed a spell indeed had washed over him. The air instantly changed. What once was redolent and clear, now hung heavy under the essence of moss and decaying leaves. Scents he could not describe crashed within his senses, and they became overwhelming, ensnarling him further within this strange spell that had washed over him.

And a day that had once been luminescent and serene, was now wrapped in the shadows of mystery. Dim, the trees were cast, and they towered above him taller than any tree he had ever seen before. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the trees, for they seemed to whisper as they blew in the wind, bending and swaying. And he watched their motion, almost enthralled, and as they moved they seemed to encircle in on him closer. He blinked his eyes, not so certain if he believed what he saw. His little body began to tremble, for he could not stop the uncontrollable fear that began to take hold of him.

Here, at the edge of the forest, he stood frozen, unable to more forward or to retreat back to the safety of his grandmother’s home. Leaves blew around him, and the snapping of twigs and underbrush rustled around him as if something or someone was descending on him. But nothing came before his eyes, and not even the rays of the sun filtered down from the dense canopy. For it was dark in this forest, and so dark that not even the shadows could stir.

Realization came with the understanding that his grandmother’s stories had indeed been the truth, and he grabbed hold of a branch, clutching it tight for his defense. Looking around him, he turned back, or so he thought. Although he had not remembered walking deeper into the forest, he could not see the edges where the tall grasses blew, and the trail that would lead him back home. Panic that only a small child can feel washed over him, and he almost burst into tears. He wanted to cry out for his grandmother or for anyone who could help him, for he feared what waited for him in the shadows. 

With an eerie light, eyes the shade of bright viridian peered out from the shadows. But nothing else came into view. There was no face, no body, but he knew that something _alive_ was watching him, stalking him even, as if he was prey that was trapped in a deadly web.

_“Who are you, child, that would dare step into my forest?”_

A voice now came from the shadows, and he instantly knew that it came from what his grandmother had warned him about.

He looked, straining his eyes to see what it was that had spoken to him. Even though it was fear that paralyzed him, he wanted to move closer to that voice, for he felt strangely enthralled by it.

_“Come hither, child. Step into the shadows with me.”_

The dulcet voice beckoned him, luring him forward and deeper within the forest. His curiosity began to replace what once had terrified him, and he took a step towards those eyes, completely enthralled.

“Bard, no! No! Get away from him!” His grandmother called to him, voice trembling with the fear that burned within her heart. She ran towards him, as fast as her frail legs would carry her, and she stumbled through the thick underbrush that tore at her legs, and scratched at her arms and face.

His grandmother’s voice seemed to break the spell, for he turned away from the shadows to see that his grandmother had ventured into this forest. She had come for him, even despite the deep fear she held for the beings who dwelt here.

_“You will see me.”_

The voice called his attention back to him, as if by magic alone, and he had no choice but to turn his eyes back.

Where once it had only been eyes that had eerily watched him from the shadows, now a full figure materialized before him. Tall and ethereal, the creature gazed down on him with the coldest eyes that he had ever seen. Eyes that were not human, but were still somehow real burned themselves into his memory. With his child’s understanding, he perceived that what he beheld was not quite a man, but was something similar, and whatever he was, he saw him as both beautiful and terrible.

Before he could get trapped within that gaze, his grandmother had made her way to his side, and her hands covered his eyes, shielding him from the spells that were trying to claim him.

He couldn’t hear any footsteps move closer to them, but he could _feel_ that being’s presence grow stronger, oppressive even as he approached. And around them it seemed that more spirits came, and even though he could not see them, he could somehow perceive them within his mind.

He could feel his grandmother’s grasp on him grow tighter, shielding him, as if her frail body alone could protect him from the phantom that was now so close to them.

“Please.” His grandmother pleaded, sobbing even as her tears fell over him. “Take me, but spare the boy.”

 _“I have no want for you.”_ A scoff came in response to her offerings.

And Bard could feel that the being reached for him, and the coldest sensation pierced into his heart, and then the intense cold seemed to latch onto his soul.

“No, please, stop!” His grandmother begged, and she clutched him tighter to her. Her sobs were uncontrollable now, and she wouldn't let him go.

He didn’t see what happened, but he felt a mighty wind blow through the forest, whirling the leaves within its vortex to a deafening crescendo. His grandmother then gasped, and she crumpled atop him, as if she were struck dead. Then a light so bright that it was almost blinding flashed, and then the forest was dark and was still once more.

He looked up from the ground where his face had been pressed, and he crawled out from under his grandmother. He looked around the forest and he took in the stillness around him. That being was gone, and the shadows seemed as if they also had retreated.

He looked at his grandmother, and with great effort, he rolled her over. Her eyes were closed, but her breath was steady. She was still alive. But not matter how hard he shook her, he could not get her to wake. Her stories flooded back in his mind, of how the spirits could steal the souls of those who dare disturb their realm, and he cried bitterly, for he knew that this was solely his fault.

“No!” He sobbed, begging her to wake.

But wake she would not. Nor did she wake when he had ran out of the forest and back to this home when he dialed for help, or when the paramedics had whisked her off to hospital. She did not even wake when he was told that he would go to live with his uncle, in a city so very far away from that forest.

Even as he drove away in the back of his uncle’s car, and he saw the diminishing forest disappear within the distance, still those haunting eyes that he had saw in that forest burned within his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For timeline references, Bard is 6 years old in this chapter, and is being raised by his grandmother since both of his parents are dead. She is around 63 years old.
> 
> This story is not beta read, and I am sorry for the mistakes. 
> 
> /I wanted to do a story where Thranduil never sailed to the West, and he lingered until he became nothing but a shadow within his forest realm. But I couldn't get the story to work, so it morphed into this strange tale. In this A/U the elves are nothing like Tolkien's.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and feedback would be appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thirty Years Later**

 

It had been decades since he had last set foot in this tired and beaten up excuse for a town.

Bard had never wanted to return here, for here was where the catalyst who fueled his nightmares dwelled. Nights with dreams so real that he thought he never would wake from, and days where the hairs on the back of his neck would stand on end for no reason at all, warned to him to keep his distance from this place. It wasn’t memory however of what dwelled in the forest that caused him distress. It was something else, something far more sinister. It was as if that being who lived in the forest was still linked with him, dwelling in his mind, and forcing dreams and memories on him, even after all of the years that had passed since that day he had met that creature.

His awareness had made him cautious, turned him compulsive, and some would say even a little mad. Heaven only knew how he had managed to find a woman who had put up with him. But he had. Strange obsessions and anxieties wound themselves into his every action, fueled his temperament, and his subconscious, triggered solely by that being. It was almost like an illness had imbedded itself deep within him, and not even time or distance could dispel it.

Nothing could, Bard knew. There would never be deliverance from that thing which haunted him.

Bard knew that he was different from other people, but he had never paid much mind to the opinions of others. He had never felt the need to, for they only lived in ignorance, unaware of the evils that lived in the dark shadows. He knew what others didn’t, understood what others couldn’t. And he knew to stay the hell away from that forest.

But it was there that his grandmother had requested that she be buried, in that cemetery, that stood on the edge of the western part of the forest.

He had debated about even coming back here at all, but he remembered how loving his grandmother had been to him. Skipping this memorial to her life would be the worst way to honor her memory- or honor what she had sacrificed for him, so many years ago. Despite Bard’s apprehension, he was still a man who valued honor, and family ties were important.

His grandmother had died three days ago, although it seemed to Bard that her death had actually been thirty years ago. She had never woken from that catatonic state, and had spent the rest of her days in a care facility, in the next town over. It wasn’t often that Bard had visited her, since he lived so far away. But from time to time he had made the long drive down to see her. And even as the years had gone by, it never got easier seeing her, for the guilt hung heavy in his heart, as if he were reliving that day when he had disobeyed her warnings and had ventured into that forest.

Bard could feel his mood grow darker, his heart beat just a little faster as he got closer to that town that stood in the shadow of that forest. He was perspiring more, and his mouth was downturned more than he cared for it to be. His mind seemed to spin, knuckles white with the grip that he had on his steering wheel. His uncle seemed to notice his anxieties, and he eyed him with a side-ways glance. Long he held his stare, but when Bard failed to acknowledge his concern, he said nothing, not wanting to make things more tense than they already were.

As Bard pulled into the limits of the town, he slowed his truck down to adhere to the speed limit. Going what only seemed like a snail’s pace, he saw the faded sign of the town. In his mind, he read the name, and he took in the number of the recorded population that supposedly lived here. Population seven hundred and twenty. Well, make that seven hundred and nineteen, Bard thought, as his mind grew even more uneasy.

It was a heavy apprehension mixed with the pain of losing someone so profound that distressed him and left him bereft. And these emotions were his alone to bear. The one person who knew what really lurked in that forest was now dead. No other person could understand how he felt or know what he knew, and Bard had never felt so alone in this world before. Not even the death of his wife stung the same way as this did.

Bard had to suppress his want to sigh and curse, for the need to alleviate the distress in his mind was like a boiling pressure that pounded within his head. He had to focus on his breathing, be mindful to subdue his swirling mind, and somehow supplant the dread with something that was more tolerable. His grandmother had just died. His heart was heavy in grief, but instead of focusing on her loss, all that resonated in his mind was that being who dwelled in the forest.

It was sick, this obsession, and it made Bard feel disgusted and weak.

As he drove on through the town, the surroundings began to capture his attention. It seemed to Bard that nothing much had changed here. The town looked just as it had in the background of his old family photos- photos of him and his grandmother posing and smiling in the park, eating ice creams together on a bench outside a filling station, watching the town’s small parade march down main-street. Things he only knew now by memories were now alive around him.

Even though so many years had passed, time seemed to have skipped by this town. The main street that he drove down cut right through the center of the town, and it was empty, even during this hour before noon. Several of the buildings and houses that he drove by were boarded up and abandoned. And he didn’t see any of the inhabitants who lived here, even though it was summer, and school was out.

At least the old filling station that he remembered on the edge of the town was still in operation, and he pulled up to one of the two pumps that comprised it. He was nearly out of fuel, and his grandmother’s house was still some miles down a winding one lane road. He turned off the engine, and he got out of his truck, just before Bain’s head pocked out of the rolled down window.

“Dad, is this really it? Where nana lived?”

“Yep, believe it or not, this area use to be my home sweet home.” Bard answered with a spurious smile on his face, before he began to walk to the door of the filling station.

Bard could hear movement coming from the truck; the sound of a belt unlatching, and the creaking of a door slowly opening. In an abrupt decision, he turned back to his son, voice stern and eyes set.

“Stay in the truck with your uncle, Bain. I’ll just pay, and then I’ll be right back.”

It was paranoid decision he knew, one solely made because of what lived in that forest. Bard knew he was being unreasonable. They were still in town. It was safe here. The forest that haunted his youth was miles away from here. But still, he wanted Bain to stay within his sight, or stay by the side of his uncle at all times while they were here. Bad things happened here. The lack of people in this cursed land rationalized to him what spun within his mind.

He saw the look of disappointment on Bain’s face, mixed with that don’t-be-crazy-dad look he often gave him. Bard had learned long ago to ignore that look. Bain didn’t know what dwelled in the shadows. And if Bard had his way, he would never come to know of such things.

Satisfied that his words had been understood, Bard turned away. He looked at the filling station, and its weather-worn paint brought a rush of wistfulness over him. Memories from his youth came back to him, flooding his mind suddenly with a clarity that was a little unnerving to him. He remembered coming here with his grandmother, when the paint was fresh and white. He remembered her giving him a handful of coins to buy an ice cream, or a bag of sweets from the kind old gentlemen who owned the station.

This station had also once served as small restaurant for the town, and the sign, Eat Here and Get Gas caused a brief smile of amusement to cross Bard’s face. The sign and his memories of this place helped ease the tension that had been building in him since he had entered this town. He hadn’t remembered that sign before, but gauging from the rust around the edges and the cobwebs that stretched across it, it must have been here for quite awhile.

Bard opened the wooden door to the station, wincing a little with the shrill squeaking noise that only grow louder as the door opened wider. He noted just how much of the white paint had flaked away from the door as well. He watched it for just a moment, white flecks seemed to dance in the sunlight as they made their way down to the dingy floor. Indeed, the whole building needed a new paint job, and more of the paint came off when the door thunked shut behind him.

“Good day.”

A voice greeted him with disinterest, and Bard could see that a man sat behind the counter, flipping through a magazine. He had wavy brown hair, an unkept beard, and was fully engrossed with the magazine instead of on Bard.

“Fuel on pump two please.” Bard said, and he a placed a wad of cash on the counter. He looked at the attendant more, and a sort of recollection entered into his perception, but he didn’t quite remember who he was.

“Just passing through?” The attendant attempted small talk. He finally looked up at him, but only briefly, before his attention was on the money.

“I wish I were passing though, but no, I’m here for the Bowman funeral.”

“Bowman...”

The attendant said, for that name had grabbed his entire attention, and he stopped counting the money. He eyed Bard as if he were trying to discern all of his secrets. It made Bard feel uneasy, but at the same time, a sense of familiar entertained his mind and he felt like he really did know this person.

“Yeah, I thought I recognized you, Bard Bowman. Shit, its been a long time. Its me, Frerin Durin. Don’t you remember? I live down the lane from your grandmother’s house.”

Bard did remember, now that Frerin reminded him of who he was, and a wary smile crossed his face.

“Hey Frer, yeah. I remember. How’s it been? What ever happened to your grandpa, the one who use to run this place?”

“Grandpa Thror? He passed not too long after you left. You know how sweet he was on your grandma. Something in him just sort of snapped after that...” Frerin stopped talking, and his eyes held the hints of something that deeply troubled him.

“Sorry.” Bard said in response, realizing that he had brought up a horrible subject that both he and Frerin little wanted to discuss. “Not trying to bring up unpleasant memories on my first day back here.”

“No worries.” Frerin replied. ‘Hey, I’m so sorry to hear about your grandmother’s passing. She was always so good to my family. My sister will be going to the funeral. She was one of her care-givers. Wish I could go, but someone’s got to mind this station…..”

“Dad! What’s taking so long. It’s hot out there and I’ve got to pee.” Bain interrupted when he came running into the filling station. The wooden door banged heavy behind him, causing more of the paint to fall onto the floor.

“Bain, I told you to wait in the truck!” Bard tried to quell the anger in his voice, but he had given his directions for a reason. Mixed within his anger was his already heightened anxiety, but he took a deep breath, minding to keep his composure.

“Well who is this?” Frerin asked, oblivious to the displeasure and panic that had came over Bard.

“Hi, I’m Bain.” Bain answered before Bard could respond to Frerin’s question.

“Well hello, Bain. I’m Frerin Durin, friend of your dad’s. You can find the restroom behind you, just through that door.” Frerin pointed to where he was referring to.

“Make it quick!” Bard instructed as Bain darted towards the restroom. “We’ll be back on the road soon.”

“Nice boy you have there. Is the Mrs. Bowman outside waiting?” Frerin asked, and he rolled his chair back to have a better look out of the station window to see if he could spot her.

“She died about two years ago.” Bard said with the annoyance that was still in his voice.

Frerin turned from the window, and looked back at him with sadness on his face. “Oh, shit. Sorry to hear that Bard.”

Bard chose not to respond. He did not want to add the pain of his wife’s death into the emotions that tore at his heart this day. There was already enough on his mind, and he didn’t want the good memories of his wife mixed within the anxiety that was growing within him this day.

Frerin seemed to notice the battle that raged within Bard, and he quickly changed the subject. “Hey Bard, my sister Dis has two boys around Bain’s age. Not sure how long you plan on sticking around here, but we should get together, let the kids meet, catch up from old times.”

“Yeah sure, Frer, that sounds good.” Bard answered, not really meaning the words he said.

He didn’t plan on sticking around here that long, and he saw no reason to rekindle long lost friendships, or stoke Bain’s interest with new people in this town. He just wanted to pay his respects to his grandmother, and then never return to this wretched area again.

He heard the restroom door open and close behind him, and he turned to see Bain walking towards him. Bard pointed for him to come and stand next to him, and when he did, Bard protectively wrapped his arm around his shoulder, pulling him in closer, despite the heat of this summer day.

“Frer, we’re kind of in a hurry. Could you get pump two started for me please?”

\- - - - -

After his truck had been filled with all of the fuel that he had paid for, Bard climbed behind the driver’s seat. Without even thinking, his hand went to the rear view mirror, and he moved it to reflect on what was behind the truck, as if he were looking for something that watched him afar. Nothing was there, save an empty lot, but still a disquiet continued to pound within his mind, keeping time with each nervous beating of his heart.

Bard looked again compulsively, thoroughly, still convinced that something watched him from the shadows. Again nothing came to view, for the shadows were minimal under the noontime sun, and the lack of hiding places was obvious in the empty lot. But Bard still felt the heavy weight of a dread that hung over him, like a dark mantle. It was oppressive, and it was something that he knew he would never break free from.

“Bard, what’s wrong? You’ve been on edge since we got here.” His uncle asked, concern too strong to subdue any longer.

Bard shot him a cautionary look, and he moved the mirror back to its proper positioning, annoyed that his paranoia could be read so easily. He waited for Bain to put in his ear-buds before he finally responded to his uncle’s question.

“I’ve just never liked this town much.” He said, hoping his uncle would let the subject drop. His thumbs drummed nervously on the steering wheel, eyes stared straight ahead. He didn’t want to look into his uncle’s face, and he hoped that his apprehension would be confused with the grief of his grandmother’s death that he should have been focused on instead of this anxiety.

His uncle said nothing in response, and Bard turned the ignition of the truck, that groaned and sputtered before it finally started. Bard paid it little mind, for he was only thinking about keeping his secrets, and he was glad that he didn’t have to explain his mind-set to his uncle. He was finally ready to drive to his grandmother’s house that stood outside the keep of the forest, and he pulled onto the highway that would lead to that lane.

The road that he took was winding, and it snaked around open fields of long grasses and sporadic homes that dotted the country landscape. It all seemed so quant and peaceful here, but Bard knew just how deceptive this landscape was. Finally the lane that he knew would take him to that house came into view, and he turned on his blinker, before he slowed and made the turn towards those lands he feared so much.

On he drove down the lane, and a few miles later, his grandmother’s house came into view. The driveway that he pulled into was comprised of gravel, and came right up beside the side door to the house. The engine turned off with a clunk, but Bard made no rush to exit the truck. He could feel his uncle’s eyes on him again, as if he silently wondered what caused Bard to hesitate.

“It’s ok to feel grief, Bard.” His uncle said. “You never really cried after your wife died. Its ok to feel emotions. Your grandmother was special, and I know how much she meant to you.”

Despite himself, Bard frowned. Perhaps there was some truth in what his uncle said. Perhaps everything that bothered him this day was only because of his grief and was nothing more. Bard frowned more. He could fool his uncle, but he could never fool himself.

“Dad, this is it, right? Nana’s house?” Bain asked through the excitement of his youth. It was evident to Bard that Bain wanted nothing more than to just run out of the truck and explore the house and grounds. Bard, on the other hand, was still hesitant to step out just yet, and he lingered in the truck, eyes scrutinizing the yard and the house.

His grandmother’s house, although old, was in a good state. Bard noted that a fresh coat of paint would do the house wonders, and the grass needed cut, for there were far too many weeds for his liking. He got out of the truck, and he paused once more, breathing in the heavy country air. Both Bain and his uncle also exited the truck. His eyes instantly darted to Bain, who was running towards the expansive back yard in his curiosity to explore his new surroundings.

“Bain, stay close.” Bard ordered, motioning for his son to come back to his side. “I don’t want you wandering off.”

Bain exhaled in annoyance, but he did as he was told and walked back to the driveway. Once there, his foot kicked at the ground, and a few of the rocks caromed into the grass. Again, he exhaled in annoyance, but Bard only ushered him to follow him into the house.

If time seemed to have passed slowly in the town, time was simply frozen in his grandmother’s house. The furniture and appliances were decades old, and were threadbare and worn. Nothing in here had changed, as much as Bard could remember it. Bard's memories of this place were strong, and that heavy weight of recollection hit him, even though he hadn’t actually been within these walls for thirty years.

After he got Bain and his uncle set up in their rooms, and had given his uncle clear instructions not to let Bain leave the house or yard, Bard went to what had been his grandmother’s room. Memories again rushed into his mind, and with a heavy heart and mind, he sat on the bed.

“Get it to together.” He said aloud to himself.

\- - - -

Dinner that night consisted of sandwiches that they had brought along with them, and Bard was silent through most of the meal. His appetite was absent, and he had been content to listen to Bain describe all that he had seen and discovered this day, and despite himself, Bard was enjoying this time with his family.

After dinner, Bain went to his room to watch some movies. Bard needed some time alone, and he stepped outside to the back porch. Even though the sun was soon to set, the land still hung under the humid warmth of summer. Bard was greeted by the sonance of insects, humming and chirping all around him. The sound came from every which direction, loud and steady. It was a different sort of noise than what he was use to in the city, and it overwhelmed his perception, refusing to let him focus on anything else. He hadn’t remembered just how different the country sounded, how time seemed to pass here with a slower cadence, paused by the slow decay that gripped this area.

Soon, not even the distraction of the insects or the sunset could fill Bard’s perception any longer, for a feeling washed over him. It was like a jolt of energy, demanding, painful almost. It bore into his mind, controlling and seizing him, and a voice that he could never forget commanded that he listen – and remember.

He had not choice. His eyes moved to that forest that loomed like a great malaise in the distance. In the dimming light of the eventide, the forest was nothing but a dark silhouette to his eyes. But the more that Bard stared at it, the larger it seemed to grow, and closer it seemed to move towards him. Bard’s heart beat with a trepidation, a fear, and also a strange excitement. It confused him, and bothered him. Memories rushed into his mind of when he was six and his grandmother had saved him. Both terrified and enthralled, the strange emotions continued to swirl within his mind, and he suddenly felt dizzy and he had to sit on a rusty old chair, for his legs gave way from under him.

Just what lived in that forest, Bard had never been able to rationalize. No book that he had read could describe what he had witnessed. No television show or internet search had turned up what he remembered. He even had began to doubt his sanity, and he had wondered if what he had witnessed when he was six was nothing but the fantasies of a child. But every time that he had visited his grandmother, and he saw that blank stare that reflected no soul, he knew that something sinister indeed dwelled in that forest. And it had a hold of him. His grandmother hadn’t saved him.

Bard closed his eyes, trying to silence that voice within his head that was calling to him, over and over.

_“Come hither, child, into the forest.”_

That voice echoed in his mind. He tried to break free from the spell that gripped him, willing a focus to comer over him that was anything other. But no other sound could enter into his perception. Even the insects were silent, and the land was still in this twilight.

Bard was entranced. He was compelled to stand, and then move forward, off from the porch and into the back yard. He kept moving away from the house, and the path that led to the forest was now before him.

“Bard. I’m going to start the ironing soon. Could you get your clothes for me?”

His uncle’s voice filtered back to him in a haze, but it still entered into his perception. It was enough to lessen the hold of the trance that he was in, and Bard was able to stop his advancement to that forest. It still took all of his willpower to move away from it and back into the safety of the house. After he had handed over the clothes that his uncle wanted to press, Bard walked back to the kitchen, and he peered out of the back door.

There was nothing within the yard, and although the land was covered in darkness, Bard was hesitant to flip the back porch light on, afraid that he might see what lived in that forest. With the haze of that spell still on him, he somehow managed to lock the door, although his hand was slow, and his fingers were clumsy and heavy. His head was pounding, and he felt sleepy, as if he were already in dream. With steps that seemed to move him without his control, he made sure that each window and door was locked in the house, not noticing the curious look his uncle gave him when he passed him by.

Slowly like a dissipating fog, his mind began to clear as each minute ticked forward to a new hour. He felt safer now, as if somehow the walls of this home would keep what dwelled in that forest from encroaching within this sanctuary. He could no longer hear that voice that had echoed within his mind, and for now, it seemed, that the world was free of any of the evil that shadowed itself from the oblivious and ignorant.

Still a weariness was over him, despite the early hour of the night. He bade his uncle a good night, and then checked in on Bain. He saw that he was sleeping peacefully. Bard then retreated back into his grandmother's room. Tomorrow was his grandmother’s funeral, and he knew that he needed his rest. Tomorrow would be a hard day, but it would also be the last day that he would ever linger in the shadow of that forest.

Once his grandmother was laid to rest, he and his family would leave this town, and he would never look back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued. 
> 
> Not beta read. My apologies for all the mistakes.


	3. Chapter 3

Rain fell without abandon the day that they buried his grandmother. In the shadow of the forest, her coffin was lowered down into the earth with only a hand-full of people present to pay their respects. Black umbrellas were huddled close together, as the rain drummed down on them in relentless abandon.

Bard was a little surprised that anyone beyond their family had showed up to the funeral. Just as Frerin had stated, his sister Dis was present, as well as a few other people that Bard did not know. Even though he remembered little about his grandmother before that day he ventured into the forest, he knew that she had always been viewed by the townspeople as strange and homely, raving on and on about spirits and other spooky fables until the day that she had fallen mute. He could fell the townspeople’s deriding gazes scrutinizing him, wondering about him, trying to decide if he had grown to be as crazy as she had been. Their questioning eyes seemed to ponder if crazy ran within the Bowman family, and if fits of the fantastical was hardwired into their DNA. Bard didn’t judge them however. He understood that they simply didn’t know what he and his grandmother knew. They were lucky like that, he thought, for he too wished that he could live in ignorant bliss like them.

Even though he could feel their eyes drilling into him, he kept his focus on the graveside, with an aloof expression on his face. If only they really knew what spun within his mind each and every day. Bard had to suppress a laugh or some snide comment directed towards them, for he doubted that they would have been able to keep their wits about them as well as his grandmother had been able to. They couldn’t handle the truth, Bard knew. It was far too terrifying, far too real.

A feeling of coldness shot through his heart, and he was suddenly reliving the memories of that day when his grandmother had sacrificed herself for him, deep in that forest, under its shadows and its vice. But instead of focusing on the horrors of that being, he remembered his grandmother’s valor. She had strength, a strength that he needed so desperately now. She had confronted the evil of the forest, and she had survived… but Bard really didn’t know if either of them had really survived. Both had been forever changed.

As the service went on, Bard couldn’t differentiate what were tears and what was rain that flowed down his cheeks. His heart ached and mourned for the one person who knew and understood the truth. Now there was nobody in this whole world who would believe what he had seen and been through. Bard had never felt so alone in his life before as he did now.

And here at the edge of the forest where the cemetery stood, Bard couldn’t help but feel a gaze that was latched onto him. It was different from the stares that he received from the townspeople. He could feel it penetrating into him, piercing and merging with something deep within his mind. It commanded a connection be formed, linking him to someone else, and he couldn’t break free from its grasp on him.

Despite his rationale’s protest, Bard tuned, and his eyes went wide as he saw that other being just at the tree line of the forest. Cast he was under the shadow of the canopy of the trees, but he was illuminated as if by a light that he alone elicited. Bright viridian eyes flashed at him, and a wicked smile slowly crossed that ethereal face. Just as Bard remembered, that being was both beautiful and terrible, enticing but terrifying, and Bard wanted nothing more than to run into that forest, and surrender himself to the summons of that other. Cruel eyes seemed jovial and luminous, and Bard watched that creature shake his head slowly, deliberately, giving him a silent command for him to remain where he stood.

Thunder rolled across the sky around them, breaking Bard’s attention. He closed his eyes for just a few seconds. With hesitation, his gaze went back to where that creature had stood. He was now gone. Only the dark shadows filled Bard’s perception, and the forest echoed with the pelting of the rains as the funeral neared its conclusion.

 - - - -

“Face it Bard, the truck’s dead.” His uncle said with the same exasperation that Bard was currently feeling.

They were still a mile from his grandmother’s house, and the country road was desolate. Not a single vehicle had passed them by for over half an hour. There would be no help for them, the adults knew. At least the rain had ended about 30 minutes ago, but now the sun was blazing down on them with its mid-summer intensity. The summer heat had returned and the humidity swelled, making the countryside feel like a tropical and humid mess. Bard was hot and exasperated. He just wanted to go home and forget about everything that was wrong in his life.

“Piece of shit!”

Bard slammed his fist into the truck’s hood, as he came to accept that he couldn’t fix the mechanical issue. He’d have to get the truck towed to a shop, where hopefully a mechanic could get it running again. Bard should have junked the truck a long time ago, but money had always been an issue for him. It always had seemed better to keep pouring what little resources he had into the piece of junk, instead of taking on a new car payment that he really couldn’t afford or qualify for. The truth of the matter was that Bard was broke, and he had been broke for awhile. Bard shuddered when he thought about just how little was left in his bank account.

Checking his frustration, Bard glanced over at Bain, who was sitting on the other side of the ditch. He had his earphones in and was fully engrossed with something on his device, oblivious to the fact that they no longer had transportation, and oblivious to the true mess they were actually in. Bard brushed his long fingers through his hair, and then he stepped away from the truck, into Bain’s field of view.

“Well, we walk the rest of the way home.” Bard said, and then he waved his arms to get Bain’s attention. He waited for Bain to take out his earphone before he spoke.

“Bain, come on. Its time to go.”

About half an hour later, they finally reached the house. Rivers of sweat rolled down their skin beneath their clothes, soaking large patches on their shirts. Thirst was on their lips, and his uncle was breathing hard. Bard fumbled with the keys as he turned the stubborn lock to the side door. He wasn’t too gentle either when he nudged the door open, in his exhausted irritation. Once inside, he watched Bain dart to the air conditioner that was perched in the kitchen window, and despite wanting to join his son to bask in the cool air, Bard headed to the faucet to fill glasses for his parched family. While filling the glasses, he heard his uncle ring the local towing company.

Before he took a drink of his own water, Bard handed both his son and uncle the water filled glasses. The cool liquid felt like heaven on his parched lips, and Bard slowly began to cool down. The nausea from the humidity began to relent, and his head was no longer pounding.

“Go take a cool shower Bain.” Bard ordered, now that he felt that he could speak again. “You’ll feel better. And make sure that you change into some fresh clothes.”

Bain only briefly flashed his annoyed face before he moved away from the a/c unit. He sprinted to the only bathroom in the house, ready to carry out his father’s request. Bard had to give it to the kid, he had been blessed with a good one. Bain rarely disobeyed his orders.

“Don’t worry Bard.” His uncle stated, now that he had finished the phone call. “Its going to be ok.”

——

 “Your grandmother left you the house.” His uncle said during the dinner meal.

A well wisher who had attended the funeral had brought them a chicken casserole about two hours after they had returned home. Bard had found amusement at the kind gesture with the food offering, since he recalled the judgmental and curious eyes from the lady during the funeral. Clearly she had thought his grandmother to be a crazy person. She probably wondered if he also shared his grandmother’s afflictions. Whatever the intent was behind the meal, the food itself was delicious, and despite all the anxiety that Bard had felt over the last couple days, the food was comforting and needed. Bard gladly dipped the serving spoon back into the casserole dish for a healthy dose of second helpings.

He could hear his uncle tap his fork against his plate, a quirk he used when he wanted the conversation to continue. Bard chose not to respond to his uncle’s statement, but instead filled his mouth with more food.

It was true what his uncle said. He had learned that his grandmother had left him the house just before he came back here for the funeral. It was now legally his, the family lawyer had told him. The deed was his and there were no outstanding liens or taxes against the property. Not that it mattered much to Bard. He had no desire to stay in this town once his truck was repaired.

Even though Bard did not respond, his uncle still persisted with the topic. “Think of it Bard, this could be the answer to all of our problems.”   
   
Bard put down his fork, and he wiped his mouth in hopes of avoiding continuance of the topic. He didn’t want to live here. He had never told his uncle about what had happened that day thirty years ago. He did not intend to justify to his uncle why they could not move here.  
   
“Dad, are we moving here?” Bain asked through the chewing of his food, youthful curiosity overriding his dining etiquette.  
   
“Manners, Bain! We don’t chew with our mouths open.” Bard said in response to his son’s question.    
   
Bain quickly swallowed what was in his mouth before he asked again. “Are we going to move here, to Nana’s house?”   
   
“No, we aren’t moving here!”

The reply came out sharper than Bard had intended it to. His once hearty appetite abandoned him, and the food no longer was appeasing to him. Instead of commenting further or apologizing for his sudden outburst, Bard stood and pushed back his chair with a force that he hadn’t really intended. A loud thud echoed in the room when the chair crashed to the linoleum floor.  
   
Without bothering to pick up the chair or apologize for his tone, Bard left the kitchen and headed out into the back yard, leaving both his uncle and Bain to wonder over his persistent moodiness.

 - - - - 

It was a sense of familiar, an electric excitement, all mixed with the dread and apprehension that hadn’t left his subconscious since he had first encountered that being thirty years ago. Bard could feel himself spiraling further into the entrapment of that creature, as if it was a rabbit hole, and he was suddenly living in a very strange fairy tale. There was a yearning, a need that he had to fill, and it terrified him, rolling through him like a dread that pierced his very core.

That voice resounded in his mind, from the time that he had been beckoned into the forest. He turned that memory over, recalling the dulcet lilt of the command. The voice had been like a whisper, but it had been so strong in its coerciveness. Even though those words had been said decades ago, the voice still sounded fresh within his mind, like the words had just been whispered to him this very night.

Bard felt like he was a child again, enthralled, enchanted, eager to learn about the secrets of the forest. He had moved from the porch, and into the yard, eyes fixated where his tormenter lived, strangely hoping that the creature would beckon him onward into his lair. He yearned to hear the whispers, see those vivid eyes, and feel those long alabaster fingers run over him. He knew that he could walk on down the path that would lead to the shadows under the trees, but the ability to move had abandoned him, and he stood fixated, as if in trance.  
   
His uncle found Bard staring at the distant forest, but he didn’t seem to notice that he had joined him. He cleared his throat, hoping to get Bard’s attention. And when that didn’t work, he called out Bard’s name. It took Bard awhile to pull his gaze from the horizon.

“You ok Bard?” His uncle asked. His weather-beaten face seemed a little softer today, showing the man’s genuine concern for Bard’s wellbeing. Bard owed a lot to his uncle, with all that he had done for him and now for Bain. Bard thought that this man was the closest thing to a saint. He needed to pull himself together, for the sake of his family.

“Yeah. Sorry to worry you. I’m just tired. Its not easy saying goodbye to someone that you love.”

It was the partial truth, and luckily his uncle seemed to accept his explanation. The older man came to stand next to Bard, and he turned his gaze towards the horizon, glancing at the forest that haunted Bard. Silence passed over them for a few moments, but it was obvious to Bard that his uncle had business to discuss.

“I know you don’t want to hear this Bard, but we really need to discuss some things. We’re struggling Bard. We can’t continue living like we have been.”

Bard nodded in response to his uncle’s words, letting the older man know that he did agree with what he was saying.

“Yeah, I know. Everything just so messed up right now. I just don’t know if making a move here will really change anything.”  
   
“It really is messed up right now.” His uncle laughed. “But Bard, think about this rationally. It’s not safe for Bain back home. Its been getting more dangerous in the city, and we can’t afford to live where its safe. Even if you found a job to replace the one you were fired from, you know that we can not make next month’s rent. My social security checks aren’t enough for us to continue to live in the city.” 

The words of reason blew on the wind, filtering around Bard, but they failed to resonate and merge with his own opinions on the situation. Bard’s silence didn’t deter his uncle however, instead it only prompted him to continue speaking his mind about the justifications for the family to make the move to the countryside.

“It would be safe for Bain here. Lots of land for him to run and play on without you having to worry about all the problems back home; the gangs, the violence, the drugs. Bain can't even go outside to play now, its gotten so bad. And don’t even get me started on the subject of that joke of a school he goes to.”

Clearly his uncle hated city life, and he deeply cared about Bain’s well being. What he said made sense.

Bard exhaled loudly, his annoyance personified within his sigh. Even though his uncle made valid points, he simply didn’t know if he could keep Bain safe with the shadow of that forest that loomed so close to this house. It was a hard choice to make- take the chance on the evil that lived in the forest, or continue to live in poverty and danger in the crime-infested city.

“I don’t know if I can find work here. Its not much of a town. I’d have better luck finding work in the city.” Bard answered, hoping his pragmatism would be the end of this discussion.

“I saw a help wanted sign at the local grocery.” His uncle said in response. “You could always inquire about work there. Might also check in with the filling station. You never know. They might need help. And if it does take you awhile to find a job, my check will stretch further out here. We already have a home here. We won’t be in a shelter, or out on the streets.”

Much to Bard’s annoyance, his uncle was right. His family was at the end of their ropes financially. He had been off of work for months now, and no-one wanted to hire him. His credit cards were maxed, and they were facing eviction. It broke his heart to know just how close he was to not being able to provide for his son.

Bard really owed it to his uncle to hear him out on this. He had raised Bard, had moved in with him and Bain after his wife’s death, helping Bard with childcare and with expenses. And now they were relying on him even more. He couldn’t ask his uncle to go broke or homeless for him. They could have a home here, away from the crime infested neighborhood where they struggled to make a nice life for themselves. It was the one thing that Bard could actually do for his uncle.

“I’ll think about it.” Bard finally replied. “Let me see about that job in town. If I get it, we stay. If not, we sell the house and go back to the city.”

“Fair enough.” His uncle replied as he let his gaze drift out towards the forest.  
   
 - - - 

Night settled slowly over the countryside, blanketing the fields and forest in a dark mantle of clouds that obscured the moon and stars. Bard had remained seated in the back yard, not caring to follow his uncle back into the house. He had sat in silence for over an hour, almost as if he were keeping a vigil, watching as the outline of the forest slowly faded from his perception. Looming in the darkness, that forest still weighed heavy on his mind. But by now, he was exhausted, and he was ready for this long day to end.

Bard’s step was quick as he made his way to the door. Once on the other side, he listened carefully, making sure that he heard the click of the lock turn. He turned the knob, checking it, once, twice. Satisfied that the door was impregnable, he strained his eyes to peer out from the door window out into the outside darkness. Nothing stirred, and excluding the insects, the night was silent. Expecting to see someone standing in his yard or even on the back porch, he flipped the light switch. Florescent light flooded his deck and a bit of the yard, but nothing was out there. Not even the shadows stirred in the stillness. Bard still did not relax. The light could not reach the forest, and it was in the forest where that creature dwelled.

Bard knew that creature was out there, biding his time, waiting for perfect moment to lure either Bain or himself into the forest.

He flipped off the light switch, and darkness filled his view once more. Bard was not satisfied, for there was still much more to do. He moved from the kitchen, further into the house. Methodically he inspected the house, checking and rechecking the locks, the doors, the windows. If any of the townspeople were to witness his actions, he clearly would have been labeled as obsessive, and possibly even mad. Bard didn’t care. Screw what others might think of him. The only thing that mattered was keeping his family safe.

Once he was finally satisfied that the house was secure, Bard took a quick shower and then finally headed to his room. It had been a long day, and he was exhausted. Letting his exhaustion take the best of him, he sprawled across the bed, and his eyes closed under the heavy weight of sleep.

—  
   
The sounds of sobs broke through the stillness of the night. The sounds of distress intensified, growing louder in its weeping, and a voice filtered in through Bard’s slightly open bedroom door. Not quite understanding what it was that he heard, Bard sat up drowsily in bed, sheets tangled around him as he slowly tried to make sense as to what it was that he was hearing. The mantle of sleep still fogged his mind, and he shook his head, trying to wake himself up.  
   
“No….no! Leave me alone! Stop it! Stop it!” The distressed voice cried out from the reality of nightmares.   
   
“Bain.” Bard called out, finally realizing who it was that cried in the night. He bolted out of bed, almost tripping over the blankets that were wrapped around his legs. Cursing, he freed himself from their entrapments, and then he almost collided with his uncle in the tiny hallway that linked the small bedrooms.    
   
“I’ve got him.” Bard said to his uncle, whose eyes were wide with worry, and mouth open with words that remained unspoken.    
   
By the time that Bard made his way into the bedroom where his son slept, he was tangled within his blankets, tossing and turning in the throws of his nightmare. Sweat was on his brow and he was fully engrossed in the nightmare. Ever since Bain had been jumped at school, he relived the attack in his dreams. Bain had lost count of how many times he had comforted him over the course of sleepless nights.  
   
“Bain, Bain. Its just a dream.” Bard said, and he crouched down to his son. He tried to soothe the anxieties that bothered his son, as he let Bain know that he was there for him, and that nothing could hurt him.

“Dad.” Bain sobbed as he threw his arms around him. “I thought they were here, hurting me.”

“It was just a dream Bain. Nothing can hurt you now. I’m here. I’m here.”

Bard took a glass of water that his uncle had handed him, and offered the drink to Bain. His hand made circular motions on the back of Bain’s back while he drank the water. Slowly Bain broke free from the holds of the trauma that still haunted him. A couple minutes later, Bain was settled back into sleep. Bard watched him for a few more minutes, before he switched off the bedroom light.

—

“You don’t have to say it. I know its been bad for Bain back home. He’s not safe there. I know this. But its our home.” Bard sighed, as he rested his hand over his temple, as if he was trying to block the worry from entering into his mind. He hated the nightmares that haunted his son ever since he had been attacked. Bain had been afraid to leave their small apartment after the attack. It wasn’t good for a child to spend his youth hidden behind closed doors. But such was the reality for kids in their neighborhood.

“You can change that.” His uncle replied. “The house your grandmother left you is in good condition. This is a nice small town. Its safe here. The crime that we lived with back home isn’t here. The school would be safer here, less crowded. Bain could actually learn, and have a future. We should do this for him. Give him a good childhood. Get him out of that mess we call home.”

His uncle’s point of view came from one who didn’t know what haunted these lands. Bard knew what would happen to Bain if he was to set foot into that forest. And it wasn’t just Bain that Bard worried about. He knew that he was falling even further under the spell of that being. It had him, and that creature had somehow wrapped his tendrils around him and had ensnared him. Perhaps it wasn’t so much for Bain that his fear was for, but was instead for himself. Bard couldn’t protect himself from that creature. And that was what really terrified him the most.

“I just don’t know.” Bard finally said. “It would be so different here. It would be such a different life here in the countryside.”

“Sleep on it Bard. Let’s see what pans out here. We have options now, and for the first time in a long time, I feel a sort of peace.”

\- ---

  
To be continued. The next chapter will feature much more Thranduil

  
Not beta read. Sorry for the mistakes  
 


End file.
